


Collar Full (little tease)

by ElsaFH (Elsa0806)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Hinata Shouyou-centric, Implied Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Hinata Shouyou, Pining, Pining Hinata Shouyou, Pining Miya Atsumu, Songfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Volleyball Dorks in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25009360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsa0806/pseuds/ElsaFH
Summary: Miya Atsumu is an artwork and Hinata Shouyou thinks it’s only logical to fall in love with him.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 18
Kudos: 141
Collections: MSBY Exchange





	Collar Full (little tease)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitcassiachan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitcassiachan/gifts).



> Welp! Hello! 
> 
> Welcome to a new AtsuHina one-shot! Woooo! The song I used for this fic is one of my favourites: [Collar Full](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZAIEAG6Vgk), by Panic! At The Disco. I just love their music and I _had_ to use one of their songs for my favourite ship. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! 

Atsumu’s fingers tap against the table. Once, twice. Three times. Shouyou’s eyes follow the motion as he wonders if the tip of his fingers are as calloused as his own but let’s go of the idea as soon as it pops up into his head. There’s a broad chance that they aren’t. Atsumu is a setter after all; the short span he has to touch the ball while setting is worth every second and he can’t really allow himself to have not even one millimetre between his skin and the ball. He wonders, then, if they’re silk-like soft. How would they feel brushing across his cheekbones, as if trying to erase the freckles underneath?

Shouyou chokes on his own spit and presses his mouth to the inside of his elbow, dabbing at his mouth while coughing his life away. He tries his best not to hack a lung and pats himself on the back in congratulations for having been able to keep his internal organs where they’re supposed to be.

“Holy shit, Shouyou-kun, ya okay there?”

He wheezes one last shaky breath before straightening his back, noticing the overwhelming heat spreading across his face like water on a mirror. It’s as suffocating as not being able to breathe altogether and he has the sudden need of fleeing the izayaka to never return.

“Yeah,” he lies, averting his eyes from Atsumu’s hazel ones. There’s worry in those irises and concern in the slight wrinkle that deepens in between his eyebrows. “I just choked.”

“Yah, I can tell,” Atsumu answers, chuckling underneath his breath. Shouyou’s throat constricts once again as he tries to press down the fluttering in his chest to make it go away. He tries to kill it on the spot and attempts to ignore it the moment he realizes he’s not getting _the job_ done, finding out that he’s never failed as miserably as he does now. “I can order some water if ya want.”

“Ah, no!” he rushes to say. Atsumu raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. The soft light of the izayaka bathes his hair and his face, casting long shades over his skin and Hinata has to swallow around the lump that forms in his throat. He’s _breath-taking_ and he probably knows it. “I’m okay, Atsumu-san. Please don’t worry.”

“Ya sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Atsumu laughs again and Shouyou feels every sound wave falling from his lips pulling at a very specific string inside of him. It’s a light tug that moves something within his chest and sparks something along the length of his nerves, drips over his skin like honey. It stirs ideas in his head and he feels them rotating over some idea that seems to be the centre of his soul itself.

As Atsumu takes a swig of his beer, Shouyou presses his elbow on the table to lean his cheek against his fist. He then looks at him… and at this point he doesn’t really care if Atsumu notices that he’s staring; if he does, it’s _even better_. He’s tired. He’s waited for _so long_ and honestly, he doesn’t really know if it’s been that long. It just feels like he’s spent his entire life in love with him. There isn’t a version of him across the overlapped multiverses out there that isn’t in love with all the other versions of Atsumu. It’s only logical for him to fall for this amazing man in front of him in some sort of twisted Icarus remake that doesn’t seem to learn from his past mistakes.

Atsumu is the sun, Shouyou is Icarus, and it doesn’t matter if he crashes against the ocean’s surface, doesn’t matter if his wings are melted. He’s somehow managed to not die upon the falling and he’s ready to rebuild his wings over and over again; he doesn’t really care how many times it takes. To fall for Atsumu is only logical, it’s natural, it seems to be engraved in his genetic code.

“Is there somethin’ on my face, Shouyou-kun?” Atsumu asks. His right hand moves towards his face, long, elegant fingers tracing the curves of his cheekbone and the fringe of his nose. His index’s fingertip taps against the hollow of his eye, there in that external corner, really close to the spot where Hinata finds the longest of his eyelashes. His eyes follow the motion and outline the angles of his fingers’ creases; his tongue gets caught in between his teeth when he wonders if he’ll ever be able to lap at them. “Ya like what ya see?”

Hinata’s stare averts from his fingers and fixes on the entirety of the other’s face. He’s so handsome it actually hurts a little to look at him for too long; it’s like his stomach clenches, hollows and rips apart to let him fall into the void.

He swallows.

“Honestly?” he begins, blushing a little. He’s already caught Hinata staring, what does it matter if he goes all out and just says what he wants to say? “Yeah. I like it a lot.”

Hinata smiles sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck to hide the fact that his fingers are trembling. He’s bold and straight forward; he never had any problems with his crushes back in Brazil. It was easy for him to weasel his way into a one night stand or maybe a short relationship of a week or two. Here, however, sitting in front of Atsumu as he looks intently at him as if he’s trying to tear him apart atom by atom, he feels bashful. The weight of his own feelings towards Atsumu stops him from doing all of the things he’s wanted to do ever since his try-outs, stops him from saying all the things he’s wanted to say ever since that first toss one year ago.

“Shouyou-kun,” Atsumu sighs, pressing the tip of his index finger against the rim of his beer glass. He pushes forward, tilting the glass over the lower edge, and Hinata watches as the amber liquid sways inside. “It’s a dangerous game the one yer playin’, y’know?”

Hinata blinks at him and tilts his head to the right like a curious bird. There’s an edge to Atsumu’s voice that doesn’t go unnoticed, and the way his cheek blush slightly makes electricity spark through his body.

“Dangerous for whom?” he asks, trying not to giggle. He fails miserably.

“Me.”

_We've waited so damn long, we're sick and tired_

_I won't leave any doubt or stone unturned_

_I've got a collar full of chemistry from your company_

_So maybe tonight I'll be the libertine_

Shouyou blushes to the root of his hair; the heat spreads across his face and slides down his neck, diving into the button up shirt he decided to wear for this _date_. The idea that he’s on a date with Miya Atsumu, number one bachelor of the professional volleyball league, is just starting to dawn on him, painfully slow. He doesn’t see Atsumu like the public does and sure, he’s head over heels for him, but he’s just… Atsumu. Just the guy that had stuttered over the sentence he used to ask him out, to invite him over to some izayaka in Tokyo to drink and eat and have some fun.

“Hey, huh,” he’d started. Shouyou was stretching his arms over his head, hearing his vertebrae cracking in the middle of his back after a very demanding practice match. His eyes moved from the net in the middle of the court to Atsumu, a curious look glimmering in his irises as he stared at the tip of the setter’s ears, shining bright red. “I— uh. Wouldja like ta go out with me…? As in! Huh. Grabbin’ some food, drinkin’ somethin’… y’know.”

Hinata left his hands hang loosely at each side of his body as he tried to regulate his breathing. He was sore all over after the practice match, stinging palms sending flashes of red, numb pain through the nerves of his arms, stiffness pressing down on the muscles of his legs. And even when he felt like he couldn’t even process what was going around him after such physical strain, Atsumu’s word left him tingling and light, as he could soar higher than he’d ever been able to.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Atsumu-san?” he joked, giggling a little. His laughter was an awful cover to his heart, hammering away inside of his chest as if it’d wanted to break bone and muscle and pop out of his thorax.

Atsumu looked away and the blush spread from his ears to the highest angle of his cheekbones. He covered his face with his right hand, pressing his fingertips against his cheeks as if looking for a leverage Hinata didn’t know he needed.

“Kinda,” he answered, his voice muffled against his palm.

“Kinda…?” Shouyou echoed, letting out a confused giggle. The fact that he was _indeed_ asking him out on a date didn’t really registered on his brain but he smiled nonetheless because it was alone time with Atsumu of all people and he wasn’t about to reject him. “Of course! Where and when?”

Atsumu’s hazel eyes were on him the second the words left his mouth, a look of disbelief shining bright in his irises. Hinata’s quick and sincerely excited answer seemed to throw him off, and as he stared back with a puzzled expression that mirrored the setter’s, he wondered if he’d said something wrong. Maybe that wasn’t what Atsumu had meant…?

“Tonight,” he’d said, coughing to clear his throat. Hinata’s anxiety subdued little by little, following every beating of his fluttering heart until it vanished completely. “At eight. I’ll text you the address. It’s on me.”

“Are you sure? I can pay for my own food…”

“’m sure.”

Shouyou blinked at him but smiled nonetheless.

And now, as the fact that this is indeed a date (a _romantic_ one at that) is finally getting registered by his brain, he feels his chest tighten. The night had been fun and relaxed up until that exact second, that exact moment when Atsumu looks at him with glimmering eyes that show something Hinata can’t quite decipher but really doesn’t need to. The blush spreading across the fringe of his nose, the way his fingers are now tapping against the table, _all of it_ , give away something he doesn’t dare to put a name to. But he doesn’t need to give it a name and doesn’t need to decipher any of it because _he knows_ and as he reaches out with his hand to slightly brush Atsumu’s fingers with his own, he’s sure no logic applies here. It just _is_.

“I think,” he begins, not daring to look at him. It feels like walking on thin ice, like walking on egg shells, _all at the same time_ and he’s not really sure as to what to do. This situation had never presented in his life before because his flings weren’t really emotionally important. But this? This is so much more. This could affect his entire life, starting from the balance of the team and his performance as a professional player, “it’s a dangerous game for both of us.”

Atsumu’s fingers stop tapping against the table the second Shouyou’s brush against them. Hazel eyes fix on the edge were their skins meet, ever so slightly, a touch so feathery it almost seems like it’s not there. He presses his lips into a thin line until the pressure makes the light-pink turn into a yellowish white that makes him shuffle uncomfortably on his chair. Did he overstep a line? Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. What if he misinterpreted this? What if it isn’t really a date—

“Ya sure ‘bout that?” he chuckles. The sound sends a pleasant chill down his spine, electricity snapping across his skin like goosebumps. “Ya’ve no idea—”

He stops and presses his lips together once more. Shouyou wants to know. He’s got no idea of _what_? He wants nothing but to press the matter further, rip the words out of his mouth with a hook if needed to but he understands he can’t do that. Atsumu doesn’t look like the sort of person that’s able to put his feelings into words easily and forcing him might end up in him closing shut every door to any chance Shouyou might ever have to get to listen what he yearns for.

“Ya’ve no idea, dontcha?”

He blinks in confusion.

“About what?”

Atsumu chuckles again. His hand move and his fingers snake in between his own, pushing further until his fingertips press softly in between Hinata’s knuckles. The warmth coming from his skin seeps through Shouyou’s and seems to ring and tingle, and when he gives his hand a light, tender squeeze, it almost feels like his heart is gonna fall off of his chest.

“Why’d ya agreed ta go out with me?”

_Oh show me your love, (your love), your love, (your love)_

_Gimme more but it's not enough (your love)_

_Show me your love, (your love), your love, (your love)_

_Before the world catches up (your love)_

“You want the short answer of the long answer?” he asks. The short answer is an “I love you” that’s been hanging from the tip of his tongue ever since Atsumu smiled at him after that first toss, sparkling with joy because he’d finally been able to fulfil the promise he’d made all those years ago. And albeit being the shortest of both, it’s incredibly complicated.

“Mmm,” Atsumu hums, seemingly deep in thought. There’s a sly smile pulling at the corners of his mouth and Shouyou has the sudden need of placing a butterfly kiss on the dimple that sinks into his right cheek. Had this been other situation, he would’ve tried to choke the impulse until it didn’t breathe anymore. Now, however, as he stirs longingly on his spot, he thinks that maybe he gets to give in to the temptation. “Whaddaya think?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, shrugging. Whichever Atsumu chooses, Hinata knows he’ll end up a blushing, stuttering mess. Having to unveil the entirety of his feelings in front of the man he’s got a crush on is the least thing he wants if he’s not _absolutely_ sure said feelings are requited.

“C’mon, Shouyou-kun,” Atsumu purrs. Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing. What happened to the blushed mess he was five minutes ago? What happened to the stammering disaster he’d been when he asked Shouyou out? “I know ya’ve got an idea of what I’d like best.”

Hinata feels a lump form in his throat and he dares himself to swallow around it. He fails miserably.

“What is it with you today?” he blurts out, averting his gaze. Atsumu chuckles and gives another squeeze to his fingers, as if knowing the effect he has over Hinata. It’s hard for him to put his thoughts in order when Atsumu seems to _feel_ how much he pulls at his strings. “What do you wanna hear?”

“The truth,” Atsumu answers. He says it as if it’s simple, simple enough for him to throw the word around like it holds no meaning at all. But Hinata knows better; he knows opening up about his feelings would end up in Atsumu having even more power over him and as he fixes his eyes on him again, he’s suddenly not so sure about wanting that. The smile he directs at him is that of a fox and Hinata shivers. “That’s all.”

“The truth about…?”

“Yer feelings, ‘course.”

“Oh?” Shouyou breathes out. “What about _your_ feelings, Atsumu-san?”

“I— huh. I thought they were obvious?”

Ah, there it is. The blushing mess, the stammering disaster. This part of him that Shouyou only came to discover when he asked him to go out on a date with him. This face, this pink that dusts his cheeks, and extends its sly fingers towards the tip of his ears. This image he gets to witness. Hinata feels privileged enough to let his muscles relax knowing now his fears are uncalled for.

Atsumu is kind, soft. Even if Hinata’s feelings were unrequited, he’d never take advantage of them.

“Not that obvious. If you want to hear it, I need to hear yours first.”

“Ah, Shouyou-kun,” he breathes out. It’s almost a wheezing, a tired, strained sound. “Ya’ll be the death of me.”

“Don’t you want me to be?”

_'Cause there's always time for second guesses I don't wanna know_

_If you're gonna be the death of me, that's how I wanna go_

The question catches Hinata off guard because he’d never stopped to think about that before. Does he want Atsumu to be the death of him? Is he ready to allow him such power?

When he blushes a deeper shade of red, the answer comes to him as fast as the ball during a match. It’s right there in front of his eyes, waiting for him to smash it on the other side of the court. The metaphor stops there, hangs from a thread and crashes against him with such strength he has problems breathing.

Atsumu’s been the death of him ever since that first smile after that first toss. He slid under Hinata’s skin with ease, as if he’d always meant to be there, and truth be told, he never tried to stop him.

Why should he start now?

“Shouyou-kun,” Atsumu begins, solemnly. He’s never looked this serious out of the court before and Shouyou is once again afraid of having overstepped a line. “Dja know how long I’ve been feelin’ like this ‘bout ya?”

“Just say it, Atsumu-san.”

“Ya…” he chokes out, shaking his head. “Ya want ta hear it as much as I want, dontcha?”

“Of course.”

“Ya little tease.”

He doesn’t sound mad at all and Hinata feels a relaxed smile spread over his lips. They seem to have fallen into a natural atmosphere that surrounds them both, enclosing them into a bubble that doesn’t allow the rest of the world to barge in and break the spell. He’s comfortable enough to laugh a little, to let his stare linger on the curve of his Adam’s apple and the muscle that dives into the turtle black turtle neck he’s wearing. He’s breath-taking, painfully so, and as Shouyou’s fingers give Atsumu’s a tender squeeze, he thinks that maybe he’s won the lottery.

It’s hard to catch up to his own feelings even if they’re directed towards someone as amazing as Atsumu. The first and last time he’d felt like this was during his years at Karasuno and he’d been just a teenager starting to discover what romantic feelings were like. Butterflies, uncomfortable dreams that he didn’t dare to speak about, fluttering touches that meant so much more. He didn’t get to come to terms with them before his graduation and subsequent trip to Brazil rolled on and although he didn’t regret the way he handled them, he had to admit it’d hurt to get rid of them through distance alone.

He didn’t need any sort of closure albeit having thought the opposite. Probably because the moment he set foot on the team, he bumped into this artwork named Miya Atsumu, and everything else in the romantic field seemed meaningless. Hinata had a lot of crushes throughout his life, but fell in love only once. Before Atsumu, that is. Now? He can’t picture himself falling for someone else ever again.

It surprises him to think that there was a time when he wasn’t in love with Atsumu. It’s weird. It feels out of character for him. So much of his current life has to do with _his_ setter that there’s no place for that past in which he fetl like this for someone else.

Hinata still has a hard time catching up to his own feelings. It seems like the world caught up to them way before he did it and it frustrates him to no end. It also seems like the world itself gave him time to decide whether he wanted to dive head first into his own feelings, enough time for him to have second guesses and refrain from letting himself feel like this. He thinks it was useless. There’s nothing about this that he’d like to reject, even if it wasn’t requited.

“Our first match,” Atsumu said, pushing him out of the metaphorical world of his lucubrations. Hinata crashes face first against the reality, that one where his fingers are intertwined with Atsumu’s over a table in some lost izayaka in some part of this busy town that Tokyo’s always been. Amidst the rush of a metropolis like this, it’s almost weird to have such a peaceful moment. It doesn’t matter if his heart is hammering away in his chest, it doesn’t matter if his face feels as hot as the Sahara, it doesn’t matter that his beer has lost all its bubbles and is currently lukewarm. It doesn’t matter that the food doesn’t look appetizing anymore because his head is focused on something else. “When I told ya I was gonna set fer ya.”

“Wow,” he breathes out, making Atsumu grin. It’s lopsided and adorable and dangerous at the same time and may god have mercy on his soul. “That long?”

“Yah. Shockin’ ain’t it?”

“Very,” Hinata sighs. “How long did it take you to realize how you felt about me?”

Atsumu blinks in sudden confusion. He raises his eyebrows, small, adorable wrinkles sinking into the skin of his forehead and Hinata thinks that maybe later he can smooth them with the tip of his fingers.

“Like ten minutes after that first quick ya and Tobio-kun pulled off.”

_You've got it all worked out with so little time_

_Memories that I'd blackout if you were mine_

_You've got a pocket full of reasons why you're here tonight_

_So, baby, tonight just be the death of me_

It’s Shouyou’s turn to blink in confusion. His fingers tense against Atsumu’s and he feels his stomach hollow when his words land on him. It feels like eons have passed while his brain tears each syllable apart, taking them down with the ups and downs of his voice. Particles, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, and every single thing he can come up with to be able to categorize them into something that he can finally understand. And once his brain is done doing that, then comes the emotional crash.

Slowly, like the tide licking its way up the shore, reaching his ankles, burying him into the soft sand. The moment he’s trapped, the wave crashes against him and strips him from his clothes, his skin and his bones, turning him into nothing but a mess of things he can’t put a name to.

He feels giddy and soft and overexposed. He’s nothing but soft clay in between Atsumu’s hands; he’s slowly shaping him, shifting his entire existence with one sentence. Once simple, heartedly sentence.

“It’s been that long, huh.”

“Ya didn’t believe me?”

“Nah,” he chuckles. His eyes are on Atsumu’s and a smile spreads on his lips. How lucky can he really be? Is being this lucky even legal? “I just think that my feelings towards you look pale in comparison.”

“So?” Atsumu mirrors his smile and Hinata’s belly boils. His heart clenches and his heart skips a beat. “How long have ya felt like this?”

“Since that first toss,” he confesses in a whisper. It’s almost a secret and he wants to keep it between him and Atsumu. These words belong to him only and he won’t allow anyone else to catch even one syllable of them. “When you smiled at me after I spiked. It was like… my life began there. Right there, with you and your smile and your perfect toss.”

Everything else had seemed to come to a halt and everything else _before_ that halt had vanished. For a second infinite in itself, Hinata had felt like he existed in his own time line, his own world, his own universe.

“Aw, Shouyou-kun,” Atsumu teases. “I had no idea ya could be so sappy.”

“I think the fact that you’ve been in love with me for seven years is sappy enough to allow _me_ to be sappy too.”

Upon his words, they both blush to the root of their hairs. It’s easy to just go and say that they’re in love with each other, but the effect his sayings have on each of them is something completely different. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get used to the idea.

Atsumu clears his throat, averting his gaze from Hinata. He seems suddenly very interested in his beer.

“Why’d ya say yer feelings look pale compared to mine?”

“Because you’ve been feelings like this for ages.”

“Ah, the ever so competitive Shouyou-kun.”

“Shut up,” he giggles.

“Shut me up, then.”

“I will,” Hinata shrugs one shoulder. He speaks like Atsumu’s defiant tone doesn’t do things to him but he knows all too well that isn’t the truth. He wants nothing but to ask for the check and get out of there to make out with him like a horny teenager. He yearns for some privacy, some physical contact. Just a little because Atsumu will be the death of him and he wants to stay alive long enough to allow him the pleasure of killing Hinata slowly. “But not now.”

“Is that a promise?”

“That, Atsumu-san,” he answers, winking, “is a challenge.”

“I like a challenge.”

“And I like you.”

Atsumu chokes on his own spit and while he presses his fist against his chest to stop his outburst, Hinata can’t help to think “ _oh how the tables have turned”._

“Holy shit, Atsumu-san,” Hinata begins, faux surprise slowly placing itself over his features. “You okay there?”

“Yah. I just choked.”

“I can tell.”

When Hinata tenderly, lovingly, squeezes his fingers again, he discovers that no, Atsumu’s fingers aren’t silk-soft. They’re as calloused as his own and the similarity makes him think that maybe, _maybe_ he should put all his assumptions about him to test. He’s got the time and the consent to do so after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it <3 Please leave your kudos if you did, they made me super duper happy uwu


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